Of Sin and Servitude
by ZoZo1770
Summary: Born into a wealthy yet dysfunctional Italian family, the only thing stopping Voldo from leaving altogether is his determination to keep a promise. But when a feared merchant enters his world, Voldo is roughly torn away from the life he has always known – and although it is a blessed means of escape at first, it does not come without its consequences. Vercci/Voldo. Warnings inside.
1. Hubris

Summary: Born into a wealthy yet dysfunctional Italian family, the only thing stopping Voldo from leaving altogether is his determination to keep a promise. But when a feared merchant enters his life, Voldo is roughly torn away from the life he has always known – and although it is a blessed means of escape at first, it does not come without its consequences. Vercci/Voldo. Warnings inside.

I decided to write a pre-Soul Edge Voldo story because there aren't many on here, and sadly the ones that are haven't been completed, so I will do my very best to finish mine. And I love Voldo -w- Just one thing, though, updates may be slow for two reasons: 1) I will be working on multiple fics at the same time, and 2) over the next two years I'll be studying for my A Levels (for you non-Brits out there, these are the exams that decide whether or not I go to University). So, as you can probably guess, I need to put my schoolwork before my fanfiction. I'll still be writing, but chances are things are going to move slowly during term time and speed up over the holidays.

**Warning: this story contains: **

**-Yaoi  
****-BDSM  
****-Self-harm  
****-Prostitution  
****-Generally dark themes****  
**

**I understand that the majority of these are sensitive topics and I assure you I am not writing them into the story for the sake of it. Anyone who plays Soul Calibur will know how overly-sexualised Voldo is and I believe that these themes are necessary to his backstory, but nonetheless I know how they are very controversial in society and promise to write the scenes containing them as well as I possibly can.**

**If any of these themes _do_ cause you offence, I highly advise you to turn back now. Having given you this warning, I will not be tolerating any flames.**

Some Italian words used, translations at the bottom.

* * *

The tale of the legendary weapon Soul Edge, as told by Bosun William Bones at the Fairweather Inn:

'_Know this; these whispered tales of a Sword that can cut the very heavens asunder are true! This Soul Edge exists! Many have tried to possess this legendary weapon but all have fallen to a horrible fate. Vercci, the Italian weapon merchant sought out the blade and you know of his grisly end! His agent, the pirate Cervantes de León was last said to possess the sword and has not been seen since! That blade is cursed as sure as I sit here! Be warned, ye are not the only one on this quest! Warriors from around the globe seek the blade for their own desires. For some, Soul Edge is their key to salvation; for others, their route to damnation. None will back down without a fight! Only the stout of heart and strong of arm can survive. Heed my warnings! They say to hold Soul Edge is to possess true power, but ye cannot hold onto it and your own soul at the same time…'_

~o~

It was late.

The streets of Palermo were rid of the carriages that noisily cluttered the road by day. Now, an occasional horse-rider trotted past, the horse's hooves piercing the silence as they clattered on the cobbles. A beggar or two littered the roadside, no more than a shapeless mass sleeping beneath a variety of unwanted, stained rags, almost impossible to notice in the dark. Rats scampered about in the gutter, scavenging for whatever leftovers the people in the town had dropped on their travels that day. Palermo slumbered peacefully tonight, and every building was wrapped in a quilt of darkness as its inhabitants slept quietly.

All but one.

A large, well-kept villa stood at the edge of the city. The gardens surrounding it were elegant, with cascading fountains and marble statues depicting mythological deities lining the long, wide path that snaked its way through the grass and the ornamental plants to the gargantuan doors of the dwelling. Within the walls of the villa the atmosphere was loud and lively, and the air was filled with enthusiastic conversation, laughter and music as a banquet that had started hours ago continued well into the night.

A young man ran a hand through his blond, jaw-length hair, tucking it behind his ear for the umpteenth time that evening. Taking a sip from the goblet of wine in his hand, he overlooked the scene, his blue eyes taking in every detail. In one corner of the room musicians played loudly on the harpsichord and the viol and the lyre, fuelled by the large amount of alcohol they had consumed throughout the evening. Many of the tables had been pushed to the side of the large, ornately-furnished hall to make room for the men and women now dancing merrily, occasionally knocking over a jug of wine or a plate of food as they did so. The two hundred or so people present at the banquet cheered and clapped along to the beat of the music, making toast after toast to almost everything they saw, too drunk by now to care who – or, indeed what – they raised their drinks to.

'Voldo! Half the night has gone and I haven't been able to speak to you properly! How are you, cousin?'

Voldo looked up from his goblet, his dirty blond hair resuming its position in front of his face. He brushed it away impatiently, giving a small smile to the grinning, dark-haired man looking down at him.

'Flavio,' he replied, 'I am well, _grazie_, and you? This is quite a banquet, I have to say.'

Flavio pulled up a chair and sat beside Voldo. 'Hah, you know me,' he said, cheerfully, 'I find it extremely limiting when people stick to weddings, baptisms and religious holidays – I don't see why we can't celebrate just for the sake of it!'

Voldo eyed his cousin. Flavio Giordano, the wealthy apothecary who loved a party, and who seized the opportunity to throw one whenever possible, no matter what the circumstances.

'Indeed,' said Voldo, taking another sip of his drink before giving his cousin a cheeky smirk, 'now that I think about it, I'm rather surprised to see you're still sober enough to hold a conversation with me.'

'Pfft, I'm getting there, slowly,' replied Flavio, taking a swig from his own drink as if to prove his point, 'it seems as if everyone else has taken to the wine more than usual tonight – it's disappearing at a faster rate than normal. I may have a chance to drink some myself if it wasn't for the fact that I have to keep ordering the maid to fetch more. Still, let them drink, at least it keeps everyone in good spirits… say, is that your brother over there?' He paused before adding, 'and who's he kissing? Well, I say that – it looks like he's eating her face.'

He gestured to the other side of the room, and Voldo turned his gaze to where he was pointing. In the opposite corner of the banquet hall was his elder brother – that was to say, one of three – with a goblet in his hand and a girl on his lap.

Luciano. Slim, handsome, black-haired, blue eyed Luciano, with glass-cutting cheekbones and a love of pretty things and hair dye. Voldo watched him in disgust as he impatiently drained his goblet and flung it to the ground, proceeding then to thrust his hands down the front of the woman's bodice. She squealed and pulled him closer to her, claiming his lips enthusiastically with hers, her dark curls dancing at her back.

'It is,' replied Voldo grimly, 'and that's his bride-to-be, Guilia Martinelli.'

'Ah, so _that's _who his fiancée is…' Flavio commented with interest, setting down his goblet and picking at one of the many plates of food nearby, 'I've heard a bit about her… rumour has it she used to be a whore.'

Voldo looked at him. 'I doubt it,' he said back, 'my father would never let her marry into the family if that were the case.'

_And yet father visits brothels all the time, the hypocrite_, Voldo thought.

Flavio popped an olive in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully before spitting out the stone and remarking, 'does your brother really have to get so… _into _it with her? Here, of all places? I mean, there are beds upstairs if he wants – surely he could go snog her somewhere private?'

Voldo snorted. 'I assure you it's the alcohol that's having the effect on him. Usually he wouldn't get so rough – he'd be afraid of spoiling his hair,' he said viciously.

Flavio laughed. 'He really cares that much about his looks?'

'He doesn't give a damn about anything else.'

_Ever the prima donna_, Voldo added privately.

'If you've quite finished your japes, brother, I'd like a word with you,' came a disapproving voice behind them.

Voldo turned around, scowling. 'Aurelio, what do you _want_?'

Voldo looked up in annoyance at his eldest brother, taking in the all too familiar sight of his neatly cut brown hair and his dark, malevolent eyes.

'I'll leave you both to it, shall I?' said Flavio, 'see you, Voldo.'

Aurelio took Flavio's now-vacated seat.

'Francesco tells me you've been associating with the gypsies again,' Aurelio said.

Voldo rolled his eyes, making a mental note to throttle his other brother when he got the chance.

'_Francesco_ is nothing more than a greedy, food-loving, sword-wielding _oaf_ who should learn to keep his nose _out_ of other people's business. So what if I have, what's it to you?' retorted Voldo defiantly, 'is it not for you to tell me who I can and can't talk to, brother. I am twenty years old; I can make my own decisions!'

'Oh, but it isn't just talking, now, is it? No, you seem to feel the need to visit them at the market, to _trade_ with them. You would quite happily bring shame to the family by buying stolen goods from scum.'

Voldo looked at Aurelio incredulously. 'You dare talk to _me_ about shaming the family?' He gestured to the people in the banquet hall. 'Take a good look around you, Aurelio! Take it all in, drink up the scene! There are people here who whore about, who have fathered children out of wedlock, there are thieves and rapists and liars in this very room – and you scold _me_ for supposedly _bringing shame to the family_?! You're a bunch of hypocrites, all of you. You, Francesco, Luciano, and father, too. It seems as though Tore and I are the only two siblings with our minds still fully operational, as yours are all full of _shit_.'

Aurelio went red with anger. 'At least I know how to properly speak to my elders!' he said.

Voldo laughed. 'Is that the best you can come up with? You're my elder _brother_, nothing more. Get over yourself,' he spat.

Aurelio's fist curled. 'One day that smart mouth of yours will get you into a lot of trouble, and I can assure you I'm not going to be the one to help you out of it.'

Voldo looked his brother in the eye. 'What are you going to do, hit me, here, in front of everyone? Oh, silly me, of course not, because that would be shaming the family, wouldn't it? You don't want people to see how little control you have of your temper. You're turning into father – if he can even be called that.'

Aurelio's eyes narrowed but he said nothing. Standing up abruptly, he stormed off.

'And tell Francesco he can go _fuck_ himself,' Voldo growled irritably after him, before downing the rest of his wine. He would go tell him himself if it wasn't for the fact that he was drunkenly sparring with an uncle out in the courtyard. With any luck he'd be fatally wounded and dead by tomorrow morning.

'Bringing shame to the family,' Voldo muttered, venomously. He thought of his three elder brothers and how much he despised them. Aurelio, Luciano and Francesco: the snob, the pretty-boy, and the glutton. Though, thankfully, Luciano was due to piss off out of the house and move in with Giulia soon. Then there'd be one less idiot to deal with, at least. As for Francesco, he claimed to have a girlfriend – a girlfriend who the family had yet to meet – but if there was a merciful god then he, too, would hurry up and marry her – if she even existed at all, that was. Francesco had always been fond of telling lies to make himself more appealing to others.

Then there was Aurelio. Aurelio, who had married and then already gone through a messy divorce at just twenty-four. Voldo would have felt sorry for him if he wasn't so annoyingly conceited. He seemed to think that he could order everyone around purely because he was the eldest 0 and though it was perfectly acceptable for Luciano and Francesco to ignore him, whenever Voldo and (though less often) Tore argued back Aurelio would be quick to anger.

_Come to think of it, where is Tore_? Voldo looked around the hall, trying to search for his younger brother among the haze of people. He had always been the shy, quiet one in the family next to his loud, boisterous siblings, and was no doubt trying to avoid social interaction, as he usually did.

_Still, who can blame him_? thought Voldo, and suddenly a new burst of annoyance and loathing at his elder brothers shot through him as he knew full well it was because of them that his little brother was so closed and reserved to most people. Peering around for the shoulder-length, brown hair and the skinny frame that was Tore's, he spotted his younger, sixteen-year-old sibling sitting in a corner, absent-mindedly picking at what remained of a roast goose. Voldo stood up with the intention of keeping him company when a loud, furious shriek stopped him in his tracks.

'How _dare_ you?! That is my _wife_, Zio Rosario!'

Voldo snapped his head around towards the source of the commotion to find his Flavio wrestling a tanned, big-boned, terrifying-looking man. A shocked-looking woman with her blond hair and crimson bodice in a mess watched as the two men knocked a bench over in their eagerness to seemingly beat each other bloody.

It was not difficult to deduce what had happened. _Oh, look, my dear father making himself look like an idiot again by drunkenly coming onto my cousin's wife, _Voldo thought,_ why does that not surprise me?_

The fight appeared to serve as a source of entertainment, however, and the dancers had scuttled off to the sides of the room leaving Flavio and Rosario Giordano in their place to battle it out, a circle of onlookers forming around them. Voldo noticed Tore watching anxiously among them. At some point they had both gotten hold of a sword, and it became unclear whether this was just angry sparring or if it had gone beyond that. As Voldo looked on, it was evident that Flavio had gotten tipsy but his father was full on _drunk_, and a few minutes later Flavio had easily beaten him, knocking his weapon out of his hand and pushing him roughly backwards. He stumbled and the crowd parted hurriedly in an attempt to dodge him, but he tripped over frightened-looking Tore and crashed ungracefully to the floor.

Rosario got up quickly and struck Tore in the face. '_Idiota_,' he snarled, 'always in my way, you _useless_ boy!'

A purple bruise now marked Tore's pale skin and, with a scared look at both his father and the people staring around him, he almost ran from the room, but not before hushed whispers from the onlookers began to invade the air.

Voldo looked on in disgust at what had just happened, watching as Flavio stalked furiously from the room. His father caught Voldo's eye and the two of them glared at each other before the elder Giordano looked away and helped himself to some food as the atmosphere began to buzz again.

_I hope he chokes on it_, thought Voldo and, with a last filthy look in his father's direction, Voldo exited the room.

He knew full well that that had not been the last of it. Tomorrow, surely, Tore would receive a proper beating. Or it could be later on tonight, in the early hours of the morning. It was not uncommon for Rosario to bring what few friends he had back to the house in the middle of the night and humiliate his youngest son, waking up the entire household in the process. Yet although it was clear that Aurelio, Luciano and Francesco did nothing to stop it, Voldo saw there was always a certain… _discomfort_ in their eyes as they heard their father downstairs force Tore to entertain the 'guests' on the harpsichord, beating him if they did not like what he played. The only time Voldo could stand his brothers was when their conscience got the better of them during these episodes, and this was the only good that came from them.

It was not difficult to find his younger brother and, after a few minutes of searching, Voldo found him at the end of one of the house's long halls, staring at his reflection in an ornate, full-length mirror and tentatively touching the ugly mark on his cheek.

'It'll go down in a few days,' said Voldo gently, coming up behind him, 'I'm sure Luciano will have some makeup to cover it with until then.'

'Luciano hates me, just like Francesco and Aurelio,' Tore replied, his large, blue eyes meeting Voldo's ones in the mirror, 'what makes you think he'd lend me his powder, or whatever it is that he slaps on every day…?'

'I'll take care of it, don't worry.'

Tore turned around. 'Father's right. I _am_ useless. I've made matters worse my entire life. It was only the other day that Aurelio reminded me yet again about how it's _my_ fault mother –'

'_Aurelio_ is just a conceited prat who can't keep a relationship for more than five seconds. He'll be gone by the end of this year, you wait and see. I think even father's getting tired of him being still single, he wants to marry him off.'

_At least that's one thing father and I agree on_, Voldo thought privately.

Tore stared at him. 'What happens when all of you go? Aurelio, Luciano, Francesco, and then you. When all of you get married and move on with your lives? I'll still be stuck with father.'

Voldo snorted. 'You won't be – he'll have drunk himself to death by then, if there's a god.'

'I'm being serious. At least the four of you have something going for you. Aurelio has the brains, Luciano has his looks, Francesco's good with a sword, and you have your –'

'Attitude?' Voldo cut in with a small smirk.

Tore shrugged. 'Well I was going to say your _wit_, but, yeah, that too.' He returned the smile.

'You play the harpsichord and you're great at it!' said Voldo.

'Yes, and father hates it. Says it's too noisy, and that the world has too many musicians already, most of whom are talentless. The only time he enjoys my playing is when he is drunk.'

'Pfft, what does father know?'

Tore stared at the floor glumly.

'Come here,' said Voldo, pulling his brother into an embrace, 'listen to me. The other members of our so-called 'family' may be a bunch of self-obsessed _stronzi_, but I did say I'd always be there for you, right from day one – and that hasn't changed. That's what elder brothers are for, right? Though I know ours aren't doing a very good job of that…'

'I know…' Tore pulled away and looked at his elder brother. '_Grazie_, Voldo…'

Tore fiddled with his nails. 'I hate it here,' he murmured.

'I'm not too fond of it myself. Shall we go? At least we'll have the house to ourselves for a while.'

Tore nodded, and ten minutes later the two of them were on horseback making their way back home. With any luck their father would not come back until the next morning, if at all.

_Perhaps then Tore will sleep easily tonight_, Voldo thought.

* * *

Italian words:

_Grazie - _thank you

_Zio - _Uncle

_Idiota - _idiot

_Stronzi - _assholes

Giordano brothers' names and ages, just to clarify:

Aurelio - 24

Luciano - 23

Francesco - 21

Voldo - 20

Salvatore (Tore) - 16

* * *

How was that? Reviews gratefully appreciated! :)


	2. Ordinary Pain

Hi guys, chapter 2 is here! I think I'll only be able to update during half term, which will be every six weeks or so at maximum. Thanks for being patient with me. :)

(Also, if anyone notices any typos or mistakes, feel free to mention them in a review and I'll fix it ASAP :D)

Enjoy!

**Edit 31/10/13: Just realised I forgot to add the Italian translations! They're at the bottom now - sorry! ^^'**

* * *

'_Luciano_, open this damned door! I don't understand why you keep it locked all the time.'

Voldo gave the door in question another hard shove with his shoulder, cursing.

'Ugh, will you keep it _down_?! Some of us need our beauty sleep,' came the irritated reply from within the bedroom, 'and it's not locked, brother – you are simply useless at opening doors. It is simply a little faulty, that's all!'

A moment later, Voldo succeeded in opening the door and strode in. Luciano's bedchamber was large and spacious, a utopia of cream and gold, with large windows flanking a dressing-table overlooking the town below and a huge armoire in one corner. A large, full-length mirror stood in the corner opposite, and a four-poster bed dominated the room, along with a bedside table either side of it. Underneath the thick covers Voldo saw the shapeless mass that was no doubt his elder brother trying to sleep.

'What do you _want_?' he groaned from underneath the duvet.

'What I _want_, Luciano, is your – ah – _makeup_,' Voldo smirked, making his way over to the dresser and searching it.

'_Shut up_,' came the muffled reply from under the covers, 'make up is for women. And what would _you_ want with my products? It's rather unlike you to start caring about your appearance.'

Voldo drew back the curtains and threw the covers off his elder brother, to the latter's annoyance. Burying his head in the pillows, he swore at Voldo.

'_Bastardo_! Shut the curtains! Are you _trying_ to piss me off, first thing in the morning?!'

'First thing in the morning?' Voldo replied incredulously, 'Luciano, I take this as being news to you: it is half past twelve. You've even outdone Francesco – and that's saying something. Is this really your precious 'beauty sleep', as you put it, or are you just so hung over that you've decided to waste half the day in bed? And anyway… your powder is not for me, but for Tore – or were you so oblivious to everything but Giulia last night that you failed to notice how our so-called 'father' humiliated him in front of the entire banquet hall?!'

There was a silence, and Voldo continued. 'Just as I suspected – too drunk to even remember last night. Why does that not surprise me?! Let me fill you in, then! While you were so busy groping your fiancée, father got drunk, came onto Flavio's wife, got into a fight with Flavio, lost the fight, and took his anger out on Tore in front of everyone – giving Tore a massive bruise in the process. But no, silly me, I can't have expected you to have remembered – you don't give a _shit_ about Tore, do you? While the rest of you are too wrapped up in your own lives, it's only _me_ who cares about him. And that has always been the case!'

At this, Luciano frantically clawed for something on his bedside table before grabbing a trinket and throwing it at Voldo, missing by a few feet.

'Just take what you need and get out of my sight, Voldo,' snarled Luciano, 'and – _merda_, look what you made me _do_!' The snarl turned into a wail.

Voldo turned around to see his elder brother inspecting his hand. Raising his head, Luciano bared his teeth. 'I broke a nail,' he growled slowly, his voice dangerously low, '_out_.'

Voldo burst into peals of laughter at the shallowness of the statement. 'God, stop being such a _divo_, it's only a na-'

'OUT!' Luciano screeched, his blue eyes wide and furious.

Voldo grabbed the product from the dressing table and stalked out of the room, still laughing. Slamming the door on purpose to give his brother as much of a headache as possible, he headed downstairs to the red-and-gold-themed drawing room where Tore was sat, reading. At Voldo's appearance, the sixteen-year-old looked up and smiled nervously.

'I think I would have heard Luciano a mile off just then – what's upset him?'

Voldo held up Luciano's powder with a grin, and Tore's eyes widened.

'Did you take it without his permission? You know what he's like! He'll probably –'

'Calm down, Tore, I had his permission – not that it means much.'

Tore frowned. 'Then why was he screaming like a stuck pig?!'

Voldo giggled. 'Because – because – '

He pretended to inspect his nails in horror, his words coming out in a mock falsetto. 'I broke a _nail_!' he wailed, before laughing, '_mio Dio,_ _è molto melodrammatico, no_?'

Tore chuckled. '_Sì, infatti_.'

'Anyway – let's get this on you,' Voldo said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. Squatting down so that he was level with Tore, he applied the powder quietly. Seeing the ugly purple mark made him fall silent, but he tried to keep a vague smile on his face all the while. After a few minutes he was done and he stood up, grinning.

'There. It's unnoticeable now.'

'_Graz-_'

'_VOLDO_!'

Voldo rolled his eyes at the interruption and turned his head towards the door through which Francesco came striding through, holding a sword in each hand. The middle Giordano was of medium height and strongly-built with short, dark hair and small, dark eyes and, upon seeing Voldo, tossed a sword in his direction, swaying on the spot a little.

'Spar with me.'

Voldo caught the sword and looked his elder brother up and down in disgust. 'Part of me was hoping you'd fatally injured yourself last night when fighting with great uncle Lorenzo, but apparently not. Are you even sober enough to start sparring again yet?'

'Who cares? I'll still beat you. Out in the courtyard, come on.'

'If you're so sure of your abilities, Francesco, then what is the point in fighting me?' asked Voldo in a bored tone, twirling the sword around in his fingers. Despite having fought with it many times, however, it had never felt… _natural_. 'Besides, I'm busy.'

'Busy? What, talking to this _rat_ over here?' Francesco replied with a snort in Tore's direction, 'he's not worth your time. I need practice. Courtyard. Now.'

'No.'

Francesco glared at Voldo. 'Then I'll fight you in here, seeing as you're so stubborn!'

'Stubborn? Hah, I'm not the one demanding a battle, Francesco!'

'And if we break anything, I can simply blame it on one of _you_ and father will believe me,' Francesco continued, his eyes glinting malevolently, 'ooh, that'll be entertaining, seeing him finish off last night's business with _Tore_ here. _Sì_, I heard all about that…'

Voldo gritted his teeth, knowing Francesco was saying this deliberately to get to him.

All the same, it was working. 'One more word and you will regret it.'

'Hah! _You_ threatening _me_? All for the sake of _him_ over there?'

Voldo gripped the sword. 'Tore,' he muttered, 'out of here.'

Tore did not need telling twice. As soon as he left the room, Voldo lunged furiously at his elder brother, aiming for his chest. Francesco dodged but in doing so lost his balance and grabbed hold of the table to steady himself. The 'fight' was short-lived as Voldo knocked Francesco's weapon out of his hand and aimed a punch to his face before turning towards the door.

'Come back when you're sober,' he spat, 'you may be good with a sword but even I can beat you when you're still half-drunk.'

And with that, he exited the room, flinging his sword to the ground.

No sooner had he come through the doorway, however, than he almost walked into Aurelio who glared at him furiously. 'It seems as though you're trying to anger everyone in turn today, Voldo,' he said, disapprovingly, 'Luciano and father are both trying to sleep, have some respect!'

Voldo laughed. 'Ah, yes, respect, just like you have respect for Tore and I, you hypocrite,' he replied, his eyes flashing, 'you're turning more and more into father each day – before you know it, you'll have turned to drink as well, to make up for your inability to keep a relationship. The wine appears to have replaced women for father – it's only a matter of time before you go the same way. You've seen what a vicious, abusive man he has become. You're following in his footsteps, Aurelio. Shame.'

Aurelio's fists clenched. 'Shut up. You know _nothing _of the pain father went through when mother died; you're too young to remember.'

'I remember that you've all taken it out on Tore ever since!' he said angrily, 'it wasn't his fault! Where were you last night, when father hit him in front of everyone? I didn't see any of you come to his defence, or try to console him afterwards! You all enjoy seeing him humiliated, don't you? Or, rather, you all make out as though you do.'

'What is that supposed to mean?'

'Leave him, Aurelio, he likes talking _shit_,' came Francesco's voice from behind them, as he emerged from the drawing room. Voldo noticed with mild disappointment that he hadn't drawn blood. 'And that's rich, coming from you, Voldo! Voldo Felice Giordano, the saint of the family, the pacifist, the peacekeeper, hah! Funny how you disapprove of father using his fists when you quite happily used yours on me just now.'

'Father's actions last night were uncalled for,' Voldo replied, 'you, on the other hand, are just a prat who enjoys provoking everyone.'

'If we annoy you that much, Voldo, why don't you just move out?!' sighed Aurelio.

'Believe me, I'd love to, but then that would mean sitting back and watching the four of you tear Tore to shreds! The only reason I'm still here is for him!'

'You get involved too much, playing the role Salvatore's guard dog all the time! He is old enough to fight his own battles,' said Aurelio firmly.

Voldo's eyes narrowed.

'So what you're saying is, despite the fact that you all _know_ how badly you treat Tore, you have no intention of stopping unless he learns to… _man up_ and argue back? We all know how that's not going to happen overnight – you've been diminishing his confidence so much over the past sixteen years, there's hardly anything left of it!'

'_Silence!_' Aurelio screamed, his wild, dark eyes piercing Voldo's calm blue ones.

'And who are _you_ to give me orders?' spat Voldo, 'you're only telling me to shut up because you know what I'm saying is true. Only you're too proud to admit it, aren't you, Aurelio?'

'You ought to know your place within this household, Voldo,' Aurelio replied, his voice shaking with anger.

'Yes, _father_,' Voldo replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm, 'and _you _ought to shut up. You sound like an idiot.'

And with one last contemptuous look at his brothers, Voldo pushed past them and made his way angrily upstairs to his chambers, locking the door behind him.

His room had a purple-and-gold theme to it, with one large window that took up almost the entire wall. The bed dominated the centre of the room with an armoire in one corner and a writing desk and a chest of draws in the other. Crossing the room, Voldo opened the top draw and pulled out a dagger that was well-hidden among the objects in it. It was a fine object, given to him by Flavio a few years back for his birthday, with its ornate black hilt and gleaming silver blade. Yet Voldo had never used it until recently, when his mood had been as black as the hilt of the dagger.

He sat on his bed and stared at the dagger, twirling it around in his hands. How he wished he could use it on his brothers, particularly Aurelio.

_Conceited, spiteful prat_, he thought, and a flash of fury suddenly bolted through him.

Voldo rolled up his sleeve where the scars from last time awaited him.

_No, _he thought, _you swore you wouldn't. Not again. Sibling rivalry is no excuse for this. _

And yet it wasn't just 'sibling rivalry', was it? It was pure hatred that had boiled up over the past two decades.

But… perhaps he _was _getting in the way. Perhaps Aurelio was right and –

_No._ That would never be the case. Aurelio would never be right, and Aurelio would never stop terrorising Tore.

_Along with father._

Yes… the two of them, the leader and the right-hand man. It was clear that Voldo's father favoured Aurelio, saw himself in him.

And oh, how Voldo _hated _it.

Hate. Hate. _Hate._

The dagger was inches away from his skin now.

_Just one cut. That's all. You know you enjoy the pain._

'No!'

Voldo stood up suddenly, flinging the dagger away to the ground. Pacing, he ran his hands through his hair and stared out the window to observe Aurelio and Francesco leaving the house, hearing the front door slam distantly. He narrowed his eyes at the hurriedness with which they seemed to be leaving, when –

'SALVATORE!'

Voldo flinched at the sound of his father's voice boom through the house. He walked quietly to the door, listening against it as loud footsteps thundered past. It was evident that Rosario Giordano had now woken from his slumber, but whether the alcohol was out of his system by now was debatable.

Voldo closed his eyes in a silent prayer which he knew would be useless.

Hopefully the beating wouldn't last too long this time.

* * *

Translations:

_merda!_ - shit!

_divo _- male form of _diva_

_mio Dio,_ _è molto melodrammatico, no_? - My God, he's so melodramatic, isn't he?

_sì, infatti _- yes, certainly

* * *

How was that? Events of the morning after :3 Expect the next update to be around Christmas. Reviews gladly accepted!


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